


Don't Let Me Disappear

by artsyspikedhair



Category: The Catcher in the Rye - J. D. Salinger
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Depressing, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:29:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5894587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsyspikedhair/pseuds/artsyspikedhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's happened to you about twenty times since you were a kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let Me Disappear

You learn to grow up alone. 

Not completely alone, of course. Nobody, not even those phonies you call your parents, would leave you _completely _ __alone. And, of course, you had Allie, for about ten years. But you only remember the recent bits of life with him, because nobody remembers stuff from when they were three, at least, not anybody you'd talk to. And you try not to think about him, because it hurts, to think about all that David Copperfield crap.__

But you think about it now, in this goddamned bus-station, trying not to think about Mr. Antolini or lousy hormones or _anything _ __, really.__ You were as depressed as you'd ever been, when Allie died, you think, but he didn't do this to you.

No, the real cause of your depression started long before you knew words like leukemia or fuck or sex... It started when you were a kid. About six, you don't remember ages very well. It was a family celebration, 'cause Phoebe had just been born. All your aunts and uncles were there, and cousins, and that one old grandmother you thought was dead. Everyone. 

One of your uncles took a particular interest in you that day, you don't know why. Probably because you were quiet. You were a quiet kid, nothing like Phoebe or Allie. He said he had a present for you, he'd give it to you in your room. 

You remember thinking you shouldn't be doing this, it was wrong. Your uncle said if you did it he'd give you a dollar, and soon you were naked and pinned and nothing mattered anyway. You were six. You didn't cry, or tell him not to. You didn't know any better. 

You cried afterwards, and Allie heard you. He didn't know the words for "what's wrong?" but you wouldn't have told anyone anyway. 

You know that was the first time you starting realizing how phony everything was, how people ask you how you are but never seem to want the answer to be anything but fine. You become an adept liar, and are good at school until you're ten. 

Boarding school. Who ever thought that was a good idea? Not you, certainly not. But you went, and you tried to get good grades at first, you really did. But then it happened again. Perverts have a way of popping up at every boarding school, and they seem to like you for some reason, you don't really know why. Probably because you're small and have skinny wrists that can easily be held down. 

You begin to question yourself, right there at that bus station. What if Mr. Antolini wasn't being perverted? What if he really did just like patting guys on the head when they slept? You know you might have been right not to trust him, because people have done things to you that started simply with touching your hair, but you can't help but wonder what it might have meant if you were wrong. You could have been wrong. You can't stand this. 

You begin running down Fifth Avenue, not sure where you're going or if you'll ever stop. You start breathing heavy but you don't stop, only slow down. You begin to wonder if James Castle had the right idea, jumping out that window. Who cares if they see you? Anything is better than this, than living with these memories of those perverted flits who've touched you. Anything is better, you think, as you see a taxi. You run out into the middle of the street. 

"I'm sorry, Allie, but I've disappeared." These are your last words, before the taxi come barreling into you and unimaginable pain fills you as the car pins you down, crushing you. 

The world can see you gory, but none of those rubbernecks care.


End file.
